


Hallmark Doesn't Make Cards For This

by sara47q



Category: The Avengers (2012), Thor (2011)
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-20
Updated: 2012-07-20
Packaged: 2017-11-10 09:20:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/464694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sara47q/pseuds/sara47q
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Darcy needs something to commemorate an anniversary.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hallmark Doesn't Make Cards For This

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Vow prompt of Darcy Lewis Ship Week.

Darcy was thinking she might need to take up card-making next. Hallmark just doesn’t make cards for the types of things they deal with on a regular basis. There were condolence cards, but “Sorry your apartment building got destroyed by space snakes!” wasn’t exactly in their repertoire.

The particular anniversary she wanted to celebrate was surely not covered by Hallmark. No matter how progressive they were in coming up with same-sex relationship cards, and step-parent cards, they were lagging behind on the “first time you slept with your super spy lovers” cards. And even if they did have them, her lovers were so different from each other she wouldn’t have been able to buy just one for both; they each needed their own, unique card.

Sure, they’d never made any formal vows to each other, but the feelings were there. Promises and declarations written on skin in touch and taste. Love shown in the way Phil always had a cup of coffee waiting on the nightstand when she dragged herself out of bed at the last possible moment or the foot rubs Clint offered when her day had been particularly stressful. She knew it was hard to deal with Avengers shit on a daily basis, so sometimes she would sneak one of Phil’s favorite cookies into his briefcase for him to find at the office. Or a pair of her panties would find their way into Clint’s bow case, to make him smile his smug grin when he found it. (She’d tried sneaking cookies in his bow bag once, but the lecture about crumbs on his baby wasn’t something she wanted repeated.)

They may not be traditional, but they worked.

This card-making thing had merit, though. Perhaps something along the lines of “I’ll love you until I’m smashed by a Doom Bot.” would work.  The inside could read, “My last thought will be of how I prefer your kisses to being stomped on.”

Or poetry?  
“Roses are Red.

Violets are Blue.

Your Arms are Orgasmic.

And You’re Tongue’s Pretty Good, Too.”

Ok, so she wasn’t a poet. But they would understand.  They always did. It’s the thought that counts, right?

In the end, she took a picture of herself in the new purple lingerie and stockings set she’d bought and put it in a couple of nice envelopes. She left Phil’s propped on his computer at work and convinced Natasha to use her ninja skills to put Clint’s in his current nest in the air ducts.

It was more them, anyway.


End file.
